I Remember
by N.D. Stark
Summary: "Pirates." The man said suddenly. "Nineteen-eighty-two. Seven years old. You liked pirates." He froze, his eyes growing wide. "Running away from the theatre, all dirtied up and covered in bruises, and all you had to say was how much you liked pirates." He remembered a man, holding out his hand; telling him to follow. A blue box. He felt tears start to form. "You look different."


The two men stood a precarious distance away from each other, each of their faces spelled with either confusion or awe. It was a large gap of space, a cloud of dry dust and leaves kicking up between them, smashing against the bright blue of the telephone box behind one man; staining the said object a dirty brown.  
The two hadn't the slightest idea what to think of each other, much less open their mouths and say something about the awkward statement the other man had said; completely out of the blue.

In fact, the opposing man, now standing sideways to the other, his head cocked in a confused way; his bright yellow eyes furrowed at how exactly the other man had gotten there in the first place to make the statement. He felt somewhat weary, and aggravated; not quite sure how to react.  
He eyed the man down.  
The strangeness started with the red, bucket shaped hat held in his hands; he remembered distantly that it was called a fez. Atop his head was a mop of brown hair, which was swept to the side in the most unfashionable manner; though it still seemed to fit him. A short tweed jacket fluttered in the wind, revealing the off-white dress shirt; buttoned perfectly underneath a bright red bowtie. On his feet were a pair of ridiculous combat boots, seemingly out of place but still a prefect fit in the whole ensemble. He seemed cheery, a large face and chin; a sloppy grin and wide eyebrows, a large round nose stuck between two large, wide green eyes.  
Something was off about them though. They weren't happy like the rest of him. They seemed to say a million things, all sad and lonely and overall _old_, which made no sense to him; the man looked so young.

He shifted aware of the uncomfortable tension forming, though it was something he'd grown accustomed to; being on the run for so long.  
He grimaced visibly as he was suddenly aware of the throbbing in his ankle again; from being snagged in a trap of some sort. He hadn't the time to bother checking on it when he was actually _stuck _in it, but it was a rigid slash, and he'd felt metal. He'd hastily wrapped it with a makeshift bandage, a torn piece of the arm of his now wrecked uniform. Any of the white was now brown and dark grey, the red now maroon and black. The rest was torn, his knees and hands and elbows ripped, some spots covered in scabs clotted on the short fur that covered his body, others still open wounds, though not big enough to bother wrapping up. The back of the suit had lengthy gashes, the edges stained red from taking a notably sharp rake to the back. His hair probably looked terrible, dirty and probably sticking in every direction, turned black from dirt and dust. His lip was split, annoyingly stinging. The end of his spaded tail was cut, a small slice of red appearing in the deep blue that made up his skin tone. He could feel it waving, a subconscious movement.

"It's you." The man repeated. "It's really you."  
There was another pregnant pause between the two once again, their surroundings growing silent; save for the endless noises of the animals that could survive in the small plot of drought plagued land, the trees sagging worryingly low, their branches saying in even the slightest breeze, brittle from the lack of water.  
"I don't understand." He said, half to himself.  
The strange man laughed. "Of course you don't."  
He was suddenly aware of the foreign tone in the other man's voice. British, maybe slightly Scottish; he assumed.  
"Looks like I was a bit off. It was the TARDIS' fault." The other man muttered, turning to take a quick glance at the phone box standing behind him. "Sorry I scared you."

He could quickly recover the distant memory of running, and simply bumping into the man before glancing up and scooting away quickly to were he now stood.  
He wasn't sure if trust was a worthy option yet.

The man held out a hand, the smile once again growing on his narrow face. "I'm the Doctor."  
He didn't move to shake the hand however, the awareness he was being followed suddenly overtaking his mind again.  
There was a moment before the words tumbled out of his mouth.  
"Don't hurt me. Leave me _alone._"  
"Oh, come on." The man stuck his hand back in his pocket, where they had formerly rested, his head swinging dramatically, his voice slightly dipping in tone and stretching out the last word. "That's not a good way to say hello!"  
The man took a step forward, making him flinch, though he stood his ground. He remained silent.

He could see the man's eyes drift across the sorry excuse of his frail form, worn and dirtied from the countless days of running, running, running away.  
"That doesn't look good." The man stated plainly, his own face rotating slightly to the left.  
"It doesn't feel good eizher." He hissed, making the slightest movement to get away form the strange, scary man.  
"Well obviously." The man drawled, again extending the last word dramatically.

Another pause.

"Let's start over again." The man exclaimed, clapping his hands together and twirling around. As his feet twisted the dust flew away, leaving a slight indent. He took a few steps closer. "I'm the Doctor. You must be Kurt Wagner?"  
He nodded slowly, though still uncertain how the man knew who he was, and still much less how he got there.

"You don't look to be in good shape." The man rolled on his heels, his hands again finding their way to his pockets.  
"_Nien._" Kurt admitted quietly.  
"They don't like ya to much, eh?"  
"_Nien._" He said again, shaking his head, his eyes falling to the dark brown dirt beneath his feet.  
"Well, I like you."  
Kurt laughed bitterly. "Zat must be a lie." He sighed, his shoulders slumping. He plopped down on the ground with self-disappointment, not bothering pay attention to the man any longer.

Kurt didn't bother move as the man's voice began gain, ever closer. "You know, I lie a lot. Probably shouldn't, but I do. I'll tell you though, I'm not lying now." The man paused, Kurt could feel the man standing stock still behind him. "I'm not the only one who likes you, ya know."  
Kurt said nothing, though in the back of his mind he could feel a small glimmer of hope. He could be accepted somewhere? It diminished quickly though. Who would care about a demonic, worthless, mutant like him?  
"There's a whole universe out there. Stars and planets, and supernovas. A whole load of things. And people. I've met a lot of people. Anywhere, anytime." That bit confused Kurt. "They have stories to tell. Legends and other things. There's quite a few about you." The man paused. "Not all of them are true, I should know; I met you before."

Kurt started at that. "Vhat do you mean? I've never met you before in my life."  
The man laughed, a cheery, open; welcoming kind. "There's a story behind that, my friend. There's a story behind that."  
Kurt still didn't bother move as the man plopped down on the ground next to him. He tried to evade the man's gaze.  
"Everyone's worth something. So that means you are too."  
"People don't accept me." Kurt said blankly, looking up. "People are scared of me."  
The man grinned. "Do I even look like people?" He asked quietly. The man stood up. "You know, they're coming; it's now or never."  
Kurt was suddenly aware of the distant sounds of hunting hounds barking. He stood, letting out a tired sigh, before glancing back up at the man.  
"Come with me." The man said. "I can show you the universe, anywhere in space and time. And you'll still be back in time for tea." The man paused, braking and howling growing slightly louder. "Unless you want me to drop you off somewhere else. I can do that too."

Kurt stopped, not daring move; the gears in his mind turning, trying to figure out what to do.

"Pirates." The man said suddenly. "Nineteen-eighty-two. Seven years old. You liked pirates."  
He froze, his eyes growing wide.  
"Running away from the theatre, all dirtied up and covered in bruises, and all you had to say was how much you liked pirates."  
He remembered. It was a dull, hazy memory. He remembered a man, holding out his hand; telling him to follow. A blue box. He felt tears start to form.  
"You look different." He said finally. "You aren't the man I remember."

The man paused, an audible sigh erupting in the stillness.  
"I'm hardly ever the same. I told you that."  
Suddenly, Kurt whirled around, and wrapped his arms around the man.  
"I remember." He whispered. "I remember."


End file.
